


The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

by PuzzlesolverDramaqueen



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Ariana's incident, Bit of Drama, Doing Rita Skeeter's job, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Summer of 1899, We're skipping through Albus' life, Young Love, battle of 1945, bc this is Dumbledore's life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzlesolverDramaqueen/pseuds/PuzzlesolverDramaqueen
Summary: "Albus Dumbledore was never proud or vain; he could find something to value in anyone, however apparently insignificant or wretched, and I believe that his early losses endowed him with great humanity and sympathy." - Elphias Doge. There are a lot of things that Rita Skeeter left out. There is more secrecy and turmoil and love in Albus' life than she could ever fathom, so this is the real story.





	1. Boys and Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic has been an ongoing WIP for years now, I think I've edited a billion times now and it really is my favorite project. I originally wrote it in German and I'm translating (and yes, editing as well) it now. I am basically trying to do Skeeter's job, but you know, better. This fic will pretty much follow Albus throughout his life, although there will be 3 major parts: 1) Ariana's incident, 2) the summer of 1899 with Gellert, 3) The great duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. I do hope, I'll be able to update each week, but let's see how that goes.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :)

Located on a small hill near England’s east coast, Mould-on-the-Would had always been a quiet village, mostly occupied by magical families such as the Dumbledores. Percival Dumbledore had grown up there and later inherited the old family home, where he now lived with his wife and children and today, attended the traditional summer fair on the meadow behind the local chapel.

Albus, holding his little sister’s hand, walked calmly beside his father, while Mother grabbed the collar of Aberforth’s shirt, preventing him from running off. “You will stay with us, until we have greeted everybody and don’t you dare pick a fight with anyone,” Mother urged.

Aberforth scowled, but nodded, pulled out of her grip and squeezed in between Albus and Father. “Look, Derrick’s here,” he whispered, so low that Father wouldn’t hear it. Albus let his gaze wander around the meadow. A few feet away he noticed Derrick Benson with a group of other children of the village. Derrick lived three houses down their street and had an excessive ongoing feud with Aberforth since the beginning of the year. It seemed Aberforth really did not care that Derrick was, in fact, three years older and twice as broad as him.

“You heard what Mum said, you should better stay away from him,” Albus replied, equally quiet.

“If _he_ leaves me alone…” Aberforth shrugged. The next moment they were swapped into an enthusiastic embrace by Mr. and Mrs. Archer. The Archers were an elderly couple, who had never had children themselves. That is why they treated all the children in Mould-on-the-Would as their surrogate grandchildren, constantly spoiling them with sweets and small presents. Albus liked Mr. Archer, who owned a Quidditch shop and always told funny stories about his childhood in Bulgaria. Aberforth on the other hand tended to take the sweets and disappear, while Ariana showed off her collection of flowers, making the old couple swoon at her enthusiasm, like everyone always did with Ariana.

It took them half an hour to greet all the other families and settle on a table with the Fawleys. The younger girl, Clementine, was Ariana’s best friend. They danced around the table, always looking for the biggest dandelion as if that was the most wonderful task in the world. The older girl, Rebecca, was about Albus’ age and always made sure that everyone knew how exasperated she was with her little sister. That again, lead to Aberforth’s open dislike for Rebecca, because she insisted on talking to him like she did to Clementine since _he_  was three years younger than her as well.

“What are you reading?” Rebecca suddenly asked Albus, who was sitting on the bench next to Father. Aberforth was roaming the meadow with Hamilton Parker, his best friend, and Mother tried time and again to keep an eye on them without drawing too much attention.

Albus looked up. He’d rather finish reading his book than strike a conversation with Rebecca, but Mother had taught him to be polite with other people and ignoring her most definitely wasn’t polite. “ _Phenomenal Transfiguration_.” He could tell by the way she looked at him that she neither knew the book nor was she very interested in getting to know it. He hadn’t expected anything else.

“Oh, _interesting_ ,” she said, eyeing the book skeptically. “Would you like to play Gobstone with Beth and the others?”

“Thank you, but I rather finish this,” Albus said. He didn’t particularly like Rebecca, Beth and the other girls in the village. It was not by principle like many other boys refused to play with girls just like that. He simply wasn’t interested in talking to them. The conversations usually turned out to be either boring or marred with a deep lack of understanding - and usually that feeling was mutual. Albus could only guess that they liked him well enough for his politeness and took pity on him, sitting alone, reading.

“You can do that at home,” Rebecca said and closed his book. Albus had already opened his mouth to protest, when Mother chimed in: “Go, play with Rebecca, Albus. Your book isn’t going anywhere.” She smiled at him and he knew she liked it, when they got along with the other children. He looked at Father for help, but he simply nodded encouragingly.

“Come on!” Rebecca took his hand and dragged him along.

It was not even that bad. He liked Gobstone and the girls were nice to him. They lend him a few stones and, although he didn’t take the slightest interest in dolls or the _Little Witch Weekly,_ he tried to seem at least mildly interested, when his opinion was asked. Cassandra even knew quite a bit about Animagi, since her cousin was one and so, he discovered he actually enjoyed talking to her.

“He’s a lynx and he says, it took him more than a year until he could completely transform,” she told him, while throwing a stone.

“But he is registered, isn’t he?” Albus asked and stepped back to let Beth play.

“Of course! Do you think he would risk being send to Azkaban?”

Albus smiled. “No. How did he get the idea in the first place?”

At that Cassandra’s eyes lit up and she threw her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Oh, _that’s_ a funny story. Two years ago –“

“Hey, Dumbledore!” She was interrupted by a yell.

In theory, his brother could have been addressed, but the girls around him turned to look at whoever had called and, then, stared at him expectantly. He turned slowly and was faced with Derrick, who, sardonically, looked up to him.

“Why are you playing with girls?” he demanded, stepping closer. Albus might have been a bit taller than Derrick, but he was twice as strong.

“I was invited,” Albus said calmly. He was really not in the mood for a row. Behind Derrick stood Orion, Aiden and Richard, his friends of a similar build, who Albus usually avoided.

“By Miss Fatty, probably, right?” He smirked at Rebecca, who looked down at her dress and tried to smooth it, tears in her eyes.

“Don’t call her that, it’s hurtful!” Albus said.

“ _It’s hurtful_ ,” Derrick mocked. He and his friends started laughing, while Rebecca started crying and Beth hugged her carefully. “Is she your girlfriend, Dumbledore? Are you in love with her?”

He had to force himself not to roll his eyes. No, she was not. They were not even friends, really, but he couldn’t say that when Rebecca stood next to him, crying.

“She is my friend, I don’t have to be in love with her for that,” he said and resisted the urge to step back, when Derrick stepped even closer.

“Listen up! Dumbledore’s in love with Miss Fatty!” Derrick yelled and his friends hollered with laughter.

“I do not and you should stop talking about things you know nothing about!” Albus said, harsher this time.

“You’re telling me what to do, Dumbledore?” Derrick shoved him and he stumbled backwards.

“I asked you not to insult her,” he replied. He did hate such situations - it was ridiculous.

“And if I do it anyway?” Derrick challenged.

“Just go away, Derrick!” The annoyed voice belonged to Cassandra, who was glaring at Derrick, her hands clenched into fists. Derrick turned his head in surprise. She had narrowed her eyes and although she was a lot shorter than him, she looked quite terrifying.

“You’ve got another friend?” He asked Albus. “Do you talk about dolls, too? Are you in love with her, too? Or are you _gay?”_

It wasn’t just Albus, who flinched at that accusation. Beth gasped, the others stared at them with wide eyes. Suddenly the meadow felt awfully quiet.

“I do not love Rebecca. I do not love Cassandra! And I am _not_ gay!” He had raised his voice this time and stood a little taller, his hands trembling with anger. “And if you had a little brain and  decency, you would not say such things lightly”

“Have you heard yourself?” Derrick laughed. “ _Decency_! What, are you my mother?”

Derrick shoved him again. He stumbled back again, pressing his lips together, glaring at the other boy. _Don’t let him pick a fight_ , he heard his father’s calm voice inside his head. He took a deep breath.

“Stop shoving him!” Cassandra yelled again and, in turn, tried to shove Derrick. She didn’t possess the strength, though, and he simply stepped back a little in surprise. Now, he seemed really angry. He bumped her shoulder and she fell backwards. “Alright! Then I shove you!”

“Stop it!” Albus stepped closer now. “You can’t tell me anything!” Derrick roared and Albus did not see it coming, not at all and so, he was too slow to avoid the fist hitting his face. He heard an unhealthy crack and let out a small scream, when hot pain shot through his nose. He felt the warm blood dripping down his nose and into his mouth and pressed a hand to his face, immediately.

“Did you just punch my brother?!” Somebody yelled and it took him a moment to recognize Aberforth’s voice.


	2. Fairytales

Albus opened his eyes just in time to see Aberforth kicking Derrick’s shin and – upon Derrick bending in pain – punching his face, when it was within his height of reach. Derrick howled with pain and anger and his friends made a few dangerous steps towards them. Aberforth must have noticed it, too, because he grabbed Albus’ shirt and dragged him away.

“Run!” Aberforth said and Albus obeyed. They ran as fast as they could manage, away from the group. Orion and Aiden followed them, while Derrick was left roaring in the distance. But no matter how strong the other boys were, Albus and Aberforth were light and fast and so they got rid of them quite quickly.

Albus tasted the iron of his blood and the red spread on his shirt, while the pain in his nose intensified and his lungs burned from running. He tried to breathe in and out and calm himself.

“I hate Derrick!” Aberforth yelled and glared across the meadow. Some of the adults were looking around in concern. Apparently, Beth had guided Rebecca back to her parents and Percival and Kendra Dumbledore were looking for their sons.

“What happened to you?” A deep voice asked, suddenly. Archibald Gene – called Archie – was the baker’s son in Mould-on-the-Would. He had just finished school and now, helped his father at the shop. The children of the village liked him, because he used to bring them goods from the bakery and played Quidditch with them in the summer.

He kneeled down in front of Albus and carefully pried away his hands from his face. The pain got even worse and a tear escaped his eye. “That looks bad, kid,” Archie said, sounding a bit too worried for Albus’ liking. “How did you do it?”

“It was Derrick, the Idiot!” Aberforth chimed in, looking over at the other side of the meadow, where a few adults gathered around Derrick now.

Archie quickly looked over his shoulder, then at Albus. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix this.” He pulled out his wand. “Stay still, now. Close your eyes, maybe.” Albus nodded and squeezed his eyes shut.

“ _Episkey_.” He felt his nose turn very hot and, then, very cold. “Better?” Archie asked and Albus opened his eyes. Carefully he touched his face. The pain had gone and his nose didn’t feel broken anymore.

“Yes. Thank you,” he replied and smiled at Archie with his blood-stained face. Archie winked.

“Albus!” That was his mother’s alarmed voice. Mother and Father hurried over and Archie stepped back, so that Mother could kneel down instead and cup his face. “Merlin, what happened to you?”

“I fixed his nose, already,” Archie said and buried his hands in the pockets of his old trousers. That didn’t seem to calm his mother a lot. She stroked his cheeks and eyed the blood on them. Father pulled out his wand and cleaned his face and clothes. “Here you go. Are you alright?” He asked calmly. Albus nodded, while Mother pulled him into an ardent hug and Father stroked his head.

“What happened?” She demanded, when she stood up again.

“Derrick Benson punched him,” Aberforth, who still stood next to Archie, informed her.

“Excuse me?” Mother’s voice had taken on a high-pitched note, that Albus liked the least. “Why on earth should he do that?”

“Because he is an Idiot!” Aberforth replied passionately. He raised his hands as if to say that it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“ _Aberforth_!” Mother scolded. “We did talk about such words.”

Aberforth looked down at his feet, frowning.

“Why did Derrick Benson punch you, Albus?” She asked, softer this time. Albus mulled it over. He wasn’t keen on telling his parents about the sudden fight and Derrick’s accusations. They would just want to pry and talk to him about it and maybe talk to Derrick’s parents and then Derrick would surely hate them even more and Aberforth would pick fights with him even more often.

He looked into Mother’s eyes and said: “It was just a misunderstanding. Apologies, mother.”

Mother held his gaze, as his eyes would tell her whether he was lying or speaking the truth. Her brown eyes looked him over and he forced himself to smile. Then, she pushed a few strands of her out of his eyes and stroked his cheek. “You can tell us everything, Albus, you know that, don’t you?”

Albus nodded. “Of course.”

*******

 

When he and Aberforth were climbing into bed that evening, waiting for their mother to come and read them a bedtime story, Albus was still thinking about Derrick Benson and what he’d said. He knew Derrick just liked to provoke, but he’d rather spared himself the humiliation in front of all the children of the village. This was why he avoided the other children. They rarely listened to him, the fought and beat each other up. He didn’t fit in.

“You should have punched him back, you know,” Aberforth said quietly. Wrenched from his train of thought, Albus turned his head and looked over to his brother’s bed.

“Violence is not the right way to solve problems. You should listen to Dad.” He regarded his brother. Aberforth suited them. The other children liked him, they understood him. And if anyone didn’t like him, they could well try and pick a fight with him. He did not like to admit it, but he was glad that Aberforth had been there to help him. He knew he was supposed to feel weak over his little brother having to pick his fights and he was supposed to feel bad that he’d let Aberforth punch Derrick, when he knew that Mother did not approve at all – but he could not help it. He preferred other means of communication and Aberforth was the perfect translator.

“I know that,” Aberforth said. “But they don’t.” When Albus remained silent, Aberforth sighed. “But don’t worry. I’ll punch them for you. Nobody will break your nose ever again.”

He did not want Aberforth to get in trouble for his sake, especially not into brutal trouble, but it was the kindness of the gesture that made him smile. It seemed he was – for all his differences – dear enough to his brother for him to want to protect him. And that meant a lot to him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Aberforth grinned and Albus smiled, when the door opened.

Mother entered the room. She had pulled a flowery dressing gown over her dress and her long black hair fell loosely down her shoulders. In her hand she held _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

“What are we going to read tonight?” She asked and Albus and Aberforth sat up with glowing eyes and simultaneously cried:

“ _The tale of the Three Brothers_!”

“ _Grumble the Grubby Goat!_ ”

Abruptly, they turned their heady to glare at each other. “You have chosen yesterday!” Albus said.

“Because it is the best story!” Aberforth argued.

“Not at all!”

“Yes, it is!”

“The tale of the Three Brothers is far more interesting!”

“No! It’s just the boring hallows!”

Albus was tired of this argument. The tale of the Three Brothers was most definitely the most interesting of all the bedtime stories that his mother used to read to them. He could not believe that Aberforth could not see it, but then again, he had never been able to comprehend his brother’s fascination with goats. He supposed it was just what interested his brother, like others were interested in dolls or flowers or Quidditch and like he was interested in all kinds of magic.

But three brothers, who outwitted death, no _were_ outwitted by him! Hallows, created by death himself! If they did exist, if someone owned them, all three! Even just the thought reddened his cheeks with excitement. It was the most thrilling image. He sat up a little straighter. He knew the tale by heart, but he loved hearing his mother read it to him. Her voice was soft and melodic and seemed to enchant the words with magic beyond any spell.

“Albus is right, Aberforth. You did choose yesterday,” Mother said, finally. Albus grinned triumphantly.

Aberforth crossed his arms in front of his chest, glared first at Mother then at Albus and leaned back into his pillows, sulking.  “But I don’t like the brothers…” he muttered.

“It is your turn tomorrow,” Mother said and pulled a chair in between Albus’ and Aberforth’s beds. “ _There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…_ ”

Albus listened carefully. It was as if he was following the brothers, as if he could witness the brothers meeting death - sometimes even as if he _was_ Death himself. When the oldest brother demanded an invincible wand, it wasn’t such a bad idea, he thought, if he’d just been humbler and more careful with it.

The second brother demanded a stone which could bring back the dead and Albus thought it was the most dangerous of all demands. Why would someone want to bring back the dead? The dead didn’t suffer, they didn’t feel anything anymore. He simply saw no use in such a relict, no use for him, at least.

The cloak, which the youngest brother demanded, was a clever wish. He was the only one, who outwitted Death and was greeted as an equal and the cloak itself was, indeed, quite fascinating and useful.

Aberforth had fallen asleep after the encounter with Death, but Albus whispered the last sentence along with his mother: “ _And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.”_

Mother closed the book in her lap, softly stroking the cover, and smiled when she saw Aberforth fast asleep and Albus, thoughtful, sitting in his bed. She put the book onto the shelf next to the door and the chair back at Albus’ desk, before the pulled the blanket up to Aberforth’s chin and kissed his forehead. Then she went over to Albus, gently pushed him back into the pillows, pulled up his blanket and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“You don’t have to tell me, what happened this afternoon,” she said quietly, stroking his hair. I simply don’t want you to get in trouble. You do know better, after all and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Albus looked her in the eyes, saw her concern and something heavy sank in his chest. He did not want to worry her, so he just nodded. She smiled and kissed his forehead as well. “I love you, darling,” she said, before she stood up and blew out the candles, filling the room with a warm darkness.


	3. Greatness

Albus was sitting in the backyard of their house. The long grass was tickling his bare feet and the sun shone onto his back. It was warm. So warm that he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and trousers. A light breeze of wind caressed his hair and he put his hands flat down onto the pages of _A foolproof guide to Rune Reading_ to keep them from being turned over.

Aberforth and Ariana were playing catch between the old trees and every now and then a gnome was approaching Mother’s bed of vegetables. It was a quiet, ordinary afternoon, at least, until there were sounds of upheaval coming from inside their house. Mother’s sudden shriek made him look up and Aberforth and Ariana halt abruptly.

“That really is no way of greeting, Kendra!” It was the loud, distinctive voice of their aunt Honoria. Albus’ gaze found Aberforth’s and they grinned at each other. Aunt Honoria was Father’s older sister. She lived in London, where she worked at the Ministry of Magic and paid them a visit every once in a while. Then, she usually brought a lot of laughter and presents and that was, why Albus liked her so much. He shut his book and quickly followed his siblings inside.

“Aunt Honoria!” Ariana yelled and launched herself at aunt Honoria.

“Ah, there you are!” Honoria said. “I almost thought they had lost you.” Ariana giggled and Albus and Aberforth grinned. “You are growing faster than Mandragoras, what are they feeding you?” She squeezed Ariana’s cheeks and pushed her bag and cloak into Father’s arms.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said, when she put her purse down on the table and pulled the gloves off of her hands.

“You don’t have to, Honoria,” said Mother, pulling Aberforth from the chair he had been climbing on.

“Oh Kendra, I rarely see them. Let me spoil them a bit, at least.” She opened the purse and almost half her arm disappeared in it. Albus wondered why she had even bothered to bring a bag, when her purse was enhanced with an extension charm. “Besides –“ There was a loud, rattling noise coming out of the purse. “Oh no, not the new perfume.” She took a suspicious look inside, before regaining composure. “Besides, who should I spend my money on otherwise? – Ah!” She pulled out her arm and held up a small, brown package.

“This is for Ariana,” She said. When Ariana opened the package, a mint green dress with white moving vines appeared and Ariana beamed up at Honoria. She eyed the dress carefully, then hugged it tightly to her chest. “Thank you!”

“And this is for Aberforth.” She handed him a rolled-up leather band. Aberforth opened the knot and blankly stared at the leash in his hands. “Uhm…” His brother looked up to him in confusion, but Albus could only shrug. For a moment the room was filled with silence, then Honoria started laughing. Albus turned his gaze towards his parents, but they seemed just as confused as him and Aberforth. “What am I to do with this?” Aberforth asked and Albus wondered, whether it was just part of a present maybe. Honoria put her hands on Aberforth’s shoulders and gently pushed him outside.

Albus knew what it was even before he heard the low shriek of his mother behind him. There was a white yeanling with a brown patch around its eye sitting in the shadow of the old oak tree in their front yard. “Merlin! Is this for real?!” Aberforth turned around, eyes wide, his face cracked into the broadest grin Albus had ever seen on him.

Mother looked like she was about to faint. Or maybe she was about to hex aunt Honoria, Albus couldn’t tell, while Father started laughing and Honoria looked very complacent. Father’s approval was enough for Aberforth, apparently. “Thank you!” He yelled and ran over to greet his new pet.

“It’s so sweet!” Ariana followed Aberforth and started patting the little goat’s head. “Come here, Al!” She motioned for him to join them. Albus looked over to his parents. Mother had regained composure, but her lips were a thin line and her arms crossed in front of her chest. Nonetheless she didn’t seem to be stepping in any time soon and so, Albus guessed, the yeanling would stay and it was safe to take a look at it. Slowly he walked over to his siblings. It did look sweet, it was just so _mundane_. He was happy that Aberforth was happy, but he had really wished for a more exciting pet, if he’d got to choose.

“But Mum and Dad forbid it!” Aberforth turned around to look at aunt Honoria, still giddy with joy. It was true, especially Mother had always pointed out that a pet meant a lot of responsibility and a goat especially, not to mention all the dirt and the ruined yard. Thus, Albus didn’t think it was wise to say something like this, when Mother had apparently not been informed about this, but Father just smiled and knelt down next to them.

“That is right, but now it is here and I am sure you will take good care of it, won’t you?” Father put a hand on Aberforth’s shoulder and Aberforth nodded fiercely. “Of course!” It had always been hard for Father to deny them anything. He was a stern, quiet man, warm-hearted but unyielding, not bothered by other people’s opinions, but when it came to his children, he was much more inclined to give in than Mother was. Mother always made sure they learned proper rules and consequences and they knew how to behave, which also meant that she was far more inclined to lose composure when others were involved.

“I think your aunt has brought you something, too, Albus,” Father said and Albus was glad to get back to Mother and aunt Honoria and leave others to marvel at the goat.

“Albus, Merlin, you grow up so fast,” Honoria said while nudging him back into the kitchen. “Your mother told me you are writing a lot.” She was looking at him curiously through her small, round glasses. Albus glanced at his mother. When had they talked about this? He had tried translating some easy runes and he’d written down some comments on the _History of Transfiguration_ , but he hadn’t expected that Mother had taken note of that.

“A little bit,” he replied.

“That is, why I have gotten you this.” She handed him a long box made of dark wood. It was rather big, but light nonetheless and on the top of it _A.P.W.B.D._ was engraved in elegant letters. When he opened the box, he saw that it was clad with dark blue velvet and it contained a white quill with a silver top and an inkwell next to it. It was beautiful and Albus loved it immediately.

“Thank you, aunt Honoria,” he said and gave her a genuine smile. “This is wonderful.”

“One day you will write splendid essays with this quill,” Honoria said and patted his cheek. “I am sure of it. Your mother says you are a bit of a genius.” Albus felt his cheeks growing hot and his smile broadening. He knew his parents believed in him and it was good to hear that aunt Honoria did so, too.

 

“How is Elton?” Mother asked, when they were all gathered around the table at dinner. Elton was aunt Honoria’s fiancé, that was what Mother had told Father a few weeks ago at least.

Aunt Honoria pursed her lips. “I am no long interested in his well-being. We are no longer engaged.”

Mother frowned with commiseration. “Oh, really? I am so sorry, Honoria. What happened?”

“Luckily I discovered early enough that he has a hairy heart.”

Ariana gasped, her eyes growing wide. “A hairy heart?!” Her voice was far too high pitched.

“It’s just a saying, darling. It means he doesn’t show a lot of affection,” Father explained and Ariana sank back into her chair. “And who are you going to marry now?”

Aunt Honoria laughed. “Nobody. At least not anytime soon.”

“Oh.” Ariana seemed disappointed. Aberforth, on the other hand, seemed like he couldn’t care less about Honoria’s engagement or the break of it. He kept scooping mashed potatoes and sausages into his mouth and every now and then glanced out of the window into the backyard, where his yeanling was sleeping. He had named her Ella.

Admittedly, Albus could’ve thought of quite a few more interesting topics, but the glares his mother shot Aberforth reminded him not to show it. He wasn’t sure, whether Honoria noticed their disinterest or whether she just didn’t want to talk about her failed engagement anymore herself. Either way, he was glad, when she finally switched topics.

“Oh Albus, I have got something else for you.” She placed her fork on her plate and rummaged through her purse. A few seconds later, after a lot of rustling and rumbling, she pulled out a rolled-up magazine and pushed it over the table towards Albus. He took it and read the name of the magazine: _Transfiguration Today._ “I thought you might be interested in that,” said Honoria, while she was munching on a piece of pumpkin cake (Mother looked quite displeased at that).

Albus flipped through the pages of the magazine. He recognized a lot of names from the books he’d read on transfiguration and some seemingly interesting articles about transfiguration techniques. He also noticed an essay about Animagus transfiguration and some pictures, which were discussing the essay they were printed next to.

“Thank you!” He smiled at aunt Honoria and started reading an article about food transfiguration.

“You can read, when we are finished with dinner,” Mother said sternly. He looked up and closed the magazine. “Apologies, Mother.”

“I am sure one day your name will be written in there as well,” said aunt Honoria and Albus could feel his cheeks growing warm again.

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Honoria is right. You will be great, one day, Albus. I am certain.” Mother patted his hand, Father smiled and Ariana beamed at him, while Aberforth rolled his eyes. Albus didn’t know what to say.

 

***

 

Sometimes, Father would take them to the forest on the outskirts of Mould-on-the-Would. This time it was a late autumn afternoon and Father had taken only Albus to collect firewood, while Mother was baking cookies with Aberforth and Ariana. Albus liked it, when it was only him and Father and no Aberforth, who would disappear every now and then and no Ariana, who, for all her sweetness, could take a tiring amount of pleasure in something as mundane as flowers. This way he could actually _talk_ to Father.

“How did you like _Leaves of Grass_?” Father asked, while they were straying through the now colorful pathway that separated the bushes and trees, paved by many hikers that had walked this way before them. Father gave him a lot of books to read and then asked his opinion on them later on. It was as if Father was waiting for him to reveal something new to him.

Albus shrugged. “I liked the _Predictions of Tycho Dodonus_ better.”

Father smiled but didn’t stop to look at him. “Why is that?”

“I did not understand _Leaves of Grass_ very well.”

“But you understood the Predictions?”

“Well, they are predictions. I think they are not meant to be understood fully until they become true.”

“And when do you know they have become true?”

Albus thought about it. He didn’t know. He’d assumed, one would just know. It would simply make sense. Or maybe… “When someone has done it. People would know, if a great avenger had returned, they would write it in the newspapers, would they not? And they have to be fulfilled, right? So, someone will do it at some point.”

“Do they?” Father mused. “Have to be fulfilled, I mean.”

Albus frowned. “Of course. What would be the point, if they didn’t?”

Now Father stopped and turned his head to look at him. “Come up here.” He pointed to an overthrown trunk. Albus climbed on it and stood up, so that he could look his father in the eyes. “Let us pretend one prediction is about you. Pretend you know, you are the son, who – according to the prediction – will be ‘cruelly banished’. You know this now, Albus, what would you do?”

“I don’t want to be banished!”

“Exactly, what would you do?”

“Not go.”

“Not go. But then the prediction will not be fulfilled.”

“Then it must be about someone else.”

“No, you know it is about you. Dodonus has said so.”

“But I would not fulfill it!” He didn’t know, why his heart was racing. This was just a game. Just pretense. He had nothing to do with the predictions, but even just the thought of it was horrifying.

Father put a hand on his shoulder and Albus swallowed to calm himself. “You would not fulfill it. Because you don’t have to. Nobody can tell you, what to do, if you don’t want to do it, Albus. You can think for yourself, you make your own future and you can change it as much as you like. You do it your way.”

“But – why are there even predictions, then?”

“It’s a version of the future, I think. Something that could happen. But it is not the only possibility. What do you think?”

“The book is old, maybe the predictions were made and then something changed. Or maybe they are rules. They are not about people, they are about happenings. If one thing happens, the other has to happen too. Or does it not?”

“You have to know that, son.”

Somehow, he didn’t like the thought of something that had to happen. It felt out of control and it felt like giving up. “It is a bit easy, I think. It is like giving up. If one bad thing happens, you can do nothing about what follows. But it should not be that way. One should try to prevent bad things from happening.”

“That is right. And who would stop you? Do you think Tycho Dodonus would get out of his grave to hunt you down, because you did not fulfill his prophecy?” Father was grinning now and Albus laughed.

“He could never get me!”

“Never. You are much cleverer than him.” Father lifted him off the trunk and put him back on the ground.

The next few minutes they walked in silence, until they reached the clearing, where Father usually chopped the wood. Albus had always wondered why he didn’t do it magically, but he did not complain.

“Dad?” He asked, when Father placed a piece of wood on the old trunk to chop.

“Yes, Albus?”

“Aberforth says that Grandfather said _Leaves of Grass_ is not very Christian.”

Father brought the axe down on the wood and it split in halves. “That could be debated.” He handed Albus the axe and placed the next piece of wood on the trunk.

“Then why did you tell me to read it?” Father seemed to think about that. He remained silent for quite a while, so long that Albus focused on bringing the heavy axe up and then down on the piece of wood. It did not split like Father’s had, but the axe sunk into it and got stuck.

“You know that religion is very important to your mother, it is the way she was raised and she wants to share that with you. I was raised differently and we do not always agree on everything, especially when it comes to Christian beliefs. So, before you were born, we agreed that I would show you, what I deemed important and she would show you, what she deemed important and then you could decide, what you think about it.” Father took his hands, which were still wrapped around the axe, and helped him bring it down again, until the wood split.

“But Aberforth and Ariana did not read it.”

“No. But you are different, aren’t you?”

“How?”

“You know, Albus, there are people in this world, who have to make the hard decisions and there are people, who have to make the right decisions.”

“Who am I?”

Father gently tilted his chin up. “You are Albus Dumbledore.”


	4. Rainstorm

All Dumbledore children had shown signs of magic quite early and Albus had been the youngest of them. If one asked his mother, he’d already changed the colour of his blanket as a baby and sneaked cookies out of the kitchen as a toddler, but at age four, nobody could have doubted he was a wizard anymore. His parents would always remember that day, because October 14th 1885 had been a very special day in more than one regard.

His mother had been in labour the whole day with aunt Honoria by her side and her screams had echoed through the house so loudly that Albus had flinched more than once. His father had taken care of him and Aberforth, but he’d been distracted the whole time he’d sat on the sofa and read to them. Not to mention that Aberforth, who had been just one year and a half at the time, had regularly started crying when Mother screamed.

Even at four years old, Albus had noticed that Father had been unusually tense, even though he smiled and spoke in his usual calm manner. They had just finished the first page of _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart_ when aunt Honoria called: “Percival! Come up here!”

Father had gotten to his feet faster than Albus had ever seen. “We will continue in a minute. Stay with your brother and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.” Before Albus could give an answer, Father had disappeared upstairs. He’d looked at Aberforth, who was seated next to him and was looking right back at him with big blue eyes.

In hindsight, Albus couldn’t say how it had happened, but he had looked elsewhere and Aberforth had tried to climb down the sofa. Albus had turned around, just in time to see his brother falling headfirst down the headrest. He had shrieked in panic, but as if an invisible rope had stopped him, Aberforth floated a few inches above the ground and then sank down slowly, giggling with joy.

Albus’ heart had pounded so fast he’d thought it would jump out of his chest and he’d just noticed he had held his breath, when he released it again, while Aberforth was pulling himself up to his feet on the armrest of the sofa.

“That was a close call, wasn’t it?” Father’s voice coming from the door made him jump again. Father smiled, but Albus thought he looked paler than usual. Afterwards, Mother had stopped screaming and Father took them upstairs to greet their little sister.

Aberforth had been six years old, when he had first let something unusual happen. He had run from Derrick Benson and his friends across a trunk that served the children of the village as a bridge across the creek. When he’d reached the other bankside, the trunk, which had been perfectly fine and stable before, gave in under Derrick and Aiden, so that they fell, cursing and yelling, into the water. Aberforth must have mocked them for it, because the next day Derrick took his revenge, but nonetheless his brother had come home and proudly told them about his escape.

Ariana had been five when Clementine had accidentally thrown her favourite teddy bear into the tree in their backyard and Ariana had summoned it back into her arms, tears still streaming down her face. The teddy bear had floated through the air towards her, as if she had simply called for him.

It was not unusual that wizarding children did magic without them controlling it and since there lived mostly wizards and witches in Mould-on-the-Would rarely anyone minded, really. Most of the children couldn’t control or channel their magic, but Albus tried, at least. Sometimes he jumped from the top of the stairs only to float gracefully to the ground, but just when Mother and Father weren’t looking. Sometimes, when he focused on it, he could summon things from the top of the shelves or place them back there, especially sweets that his mother usually hid away. Sometimes he’d even try to transfigure grass into flowers or leaves into bees, but it never worked quite as well as he’d liked, just like the spells he tried from his books.

He was always careful not to let anyone apart from his family or the other magical children – mostly Cassandra, who was the only one that played with him – see. He had read about the International Statue of Secrecy and he did not want to breech it, even though he knew, he would probably not get in too much trouble. Additionally, his parents regularly reminded Aberforth and Ariana to be careful not to show their magic to muggles and Albus didn’t want them to have to remind him as well. Aberforth usually _forgot_ whatever they had told him, when he was having a row with Derrick, but Ariana was happy enough to retreat to the backyard. She sat there with Ella and let the flowers dance across the grass, before weaving them into a crown for the goat.

This day - it was a cold, stormy afternoon in December - Albus and Cassandra were walking down the pebble streets of Mould-on-the-would. Cassandra was the only true friend he had and they had met up on the market place to play gobstone when it had started to rain. Soon enough, thunder was echoing from above and lightning lit up the clouded sky, so that they had decided to postpone their meeting and retreat back home.

"I will walk you home,” Albus declared, while he held his hat in place against the wind and rain.

“You don’t have to!” Cassandra yelled over the thunder. “Your house is right here.”

“My mother says, one should never let a girl walk home alone in the dark.”

“That is ridiculous. I can walk home alone as well as you can. Besides, it is not dark yet.”

He shrugged. “I know you can.” Still, he didn’t leave her side.

She looked up at him. “Fine,” she sighed. “But you cannot come in, my grandparents are visiting.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “And Carl is nagging me about you enough, already.”

He raised his eyebrows, while they passed the street where his house was located. Carl was Cassandras older brother, who had returned from Hogwarts for the holidays.

“What about me?” He asked.

Cassandra shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her brother’s behavior. He was familiar with that kind of feeling and that was why he liked her. She was not like the other children. She read a lot, she was clever, she could talk about the things he was interested in, too. She was the only one, who really wanted to talk to him and play with him, but she was also the only one that he wanted to talk to or play with. She was like him – a little bit, at least.

“He is annoying,” she said. “He keeps telling mum and dad that I’m in love with you and such things.”

Albus was confused. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he wants to annoy me.”

“Yes, but why me?”

“Because you are the only boy, I am friends with?” Now, she grinned at him and he got the feeling she was understanding something that he couldn’t quite grasp. “I know it’s silly,” Cassandra said, when they turned into her street.

“For how long are they staying?” He asked in order to switch topics. He really didn’t want to talk about that _Girl-Boy-Thing,_ as Honoria had called it on Ariana’s birthday. He didn’t understand, why everyone seemed so obsessed with the topic.

“Until January!” Cassandra threw back her head, exasperated, so that the hood fell off her and her braids were fluttering in the wind. “Just because they are living in Ireland they want to stay for Christmas _and_ New Year! And you couldn’t believe what I have to _endure_ from my grandmother: _Oh Cassandra, why is your dress dirty again?_ ” Her voice took on a higher pitch while she was imitating her grandmother. “ _Why don’t you braid your hair_ nicely _? This way you will never get married, Cassandra, young men demand a proper lady! -_ As if marrying was my only goal in life.” She rolled her eyes again. “That is what Amber wants. Not me.” Amber was Cassandra’s older sister.

When they reached Cassandra’s house, she turned around on her doorstep. “I will see you tomorrow. And thank you, even if it was not necessary.”

Albus grinned and waved, before she entered her house and he turned around to walk back home. He’d almost reached the crossroad to his street, when three boys came running towards him. They were older than him, taller and broader, but not yet adults and Albus had never seen anyone running that fast. They were already out of breath, apparently, but they shoved each other forwards, stumbling over pebbles and puddles on the ground. They shoved him aside and he could feel his trousers tear at his knees, when he hit the ground.

For a moment he sat there, stunned. He didn’t know these boys, so they were not magical he supposed, but what were they doing here then? And what were they running from? He tried to look after them, but the rain was blurring his view and the boys were already far away, down the street.

Before he could comprehend, what was happening he was roughly pulled to his feet and found himself staring into the bright blue eyes of his father. He was wearing neither cloak nor scarf; his boots were untied and his face twisted with anger.

“Are you alright?!”

Father’s voice was so strained with something Albus had never heard from him before that he almost doubted it was really his father speaking. He nodded quickly and Father let go of his arms. “Go home!” He ordered, before he started running as well.

“Father!” Albus yelled after him, but Father had already disappeared in the storm, just lie the boys before him. “What happened?!” But all he got was the howling of the wind. Suddenly, it felt like the temperature had dropped even more and something heavy was pushing onto his chest. And then he started running, too.

He reached his house only a minute later, his lungs aching and his hands shaking from the cold and fear. The front door stood open and he stumbled inside. “Mother?” He yelled. His heart was pounding faster than ever, faster than when he’d run from Derrick with a broken nose. Breathing was hard. “MUM!” He yelled again, but no one answered.

He glanced into the kitchen, but nobody was there. Blood was rushing through his veins, numbing his ears, but he could still hear the sobs coming out of the living room. He dashed through the hallway into the living room and he was just about to call out for his mother again, but the words stayed stuck in his throat upon the sight before him.


	5. Sorrow

Mother was kneeling on the ground. Aberforth was standing lost in the room, crying, staring at Mother. Mother’s shoulders were shaking with sobs, her face buried in her hands. Behind her, on the sofa, he could only recognize half of Ariana’s body but what he saw, hit him in the guts.

Her dress was dirty, torn, even burned in some places. Her knees were bleeding and her right foot was strangely twisted.  
He stepped closer, very slowly – he wanted to see her whole. He had to. He approached his mother and finally took a look at his sister. He felt like throwing up. 

She was unconscious, at least he hoped she was. Her hair was tainted with mud and blood and at the tips it looked black and burned. There was a large cut on her forehead, her nose was crooked and blood was running from her mouth. One of her eyes was swollen with a deep red and the rest of her face dirty. Her arms were covered with small cuts and on her left forearm Albus could only see burning red flesh – no skin, as if fire had spread there too. She must’ve had a wound on her chest as well, since blood was slowly seeping through her dress.

He felt sick. He wanted to scream and to cry and to throw up, but most of all he wanted his sister to not look like this anymore.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his voice couldn’t seem to form the right words. “What happened?” he breathed out, finally. Mother cried even more. She had her wand pointed at Ariana and was cleaning her from the blood and the mud. She healed her wounds one by one, so many wounds… The silence was unbearable.

Where was Father? Why did he run away so suddenly, when Ariana looked like this? He was a healer; he knew what to do! Who had done this?

And then he remembered the three boys, who had shoved him out of the way, just a few seconds before he’d seen Father running. Something heavy sunk in his chest. No, his father wasn’t that stupid. Father always remained calm.

“What happened, Mother?” He asked again, louder this time. He clenched his fists and tried to fight the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Ariana. She would not die. She was not allowed to die!

But it wasn’t his mother, who answered. It was Aberforth with a voice so quiet and broken and unusual for his loud brother. He was still crying.

“Three boys…” He whispered. “She did some magic… They did… I was supposed to get her, because of… rain… and she was there… but they… they ran…” He was shaking now. “Dad… he ran too.” 

Something inside him was burning. What could he say to that? His head was glaringly empty and tears were still burning in his eyes.

He had seen those boys. He had met them. One of them had shoved him even. All of that, without him knowing what they had just done to his little sister. Blinding hatred mixed up with all the feelings rushing through his body. He wasn’t delusional, he knew, he couldn’t have done anything, even if he had known.

Still, he should have…

What should he have done? He did not know. He didn’t know anything. He just saw his brother crying, his mother crying, Ariana so incredibly wounded und Father – where was Father?

He looked over at Ariana again and his vision blurred. A few tears escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away and sternly pressed his lips together.

Mother had healed most of her wounds, cleaned her from most of the blood, but Ariana’s eyes remained closed. She still looked so vulnerable and Mother was still crying.

It was as if they were frozen in this moment. Nothing turned, nothing changed, nobody spoke until there was a loud rumbling at the door, that made the world spin again. Albus turned around just as Father entered. He was soaked with rain, trying to catch his breath and his eyes flickered through the room. The sight of his Father unsettled him almost as much as the sight of Ariana.

“Percival…”Mother whispered, staring at him with wide eyes. “What have you done?” Father approached her and gently pushed her aside. He bent over Ariana, examining the remaining injuries on her body.

“Dittany”, he muttered, not once looking up. “Go!”

Mother wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she hurried to the kitchen to the small cabinet in the corner, where they stored all the potions and essences that Father sometimes brought in for emergencies. 

Aberforth had not moved and Albus could see why. He did not know what to feel or think himself, not to mention what to do. He wanted to help but he did not know how. His body was shaking with rage and fear and he wanted to know _what_ had happened and he wanted that this was only a nightmare and he wanted to wake up and that everything was normal again.

Father stripped Ariana off her dress and tended to even more wounds on her stomach and her back. He uncorked a small vial and poured the fuming liquid into her mouth.

Albus had never experienced anything so surreal. The whole situation was ridiculous. This could not be happening. Not to them, not here. Not to his little sister. As much as he tried, he could not comprehend it. Each time that he tried to understand what was happening, the thought, the feeling escaped him again and he was still staring at his family as if he was someone else. As if he was not involved. It was as if he was reading a book that he could shut any minute.

Mother sank onto the arm chair in front of the fireplace, her legs bending in a way that made Albus think they simply could not carry her any longer. She looked pale and years older than this morning. Her face was reddened and her eyes still glassy, while she was staring at Ariana and Father.

For the first time now, Albus could feel his wet clothes clinging to his body and a few drops of water trickling down his neck. He was cold, so cold. Not only his skin, but something deep within him, like an iron fist closing around his heart.

What would happen now? What would become of Ariana? Would she ever get better? He looked at his sister and flinched at the sight, so much that he thought: No, surely not. 

And what happened to those three boys?

He saw Aberforth sinking to the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest. Tears were still running down his cheeks and Albus knew how he felt. He felt sick looking at Ariana, too but somehow, he could not look away either. And Aberforth was even closer with her.

“Go change, Albus. Put on something nice. And be quick.”

Albus flinched. He hadn’t expected to be addressed so suddenly. The silence had felt so endless. Father had spoken in a calm, almost detached voice and he had not turned around. Albus swallowed and stared at him. He should change? He should leave Ariana? Why did it matter what he wore when Ariana looked like this? What if she… what if anything happened to her, while he was upstairs?

“ _Now_ , Albus!” Father’s voice was harsh now. It was a mixture of tension and determination that he had never heard before. It was this tone that made him comply. “Yes, Father.” Slowly he made his way towards the stairs.

He could not even remember changing. He just _did_. He hung up his wet clothes in the bathroom and went back downstairs as if in trance. When he entered the room, Aberforth had buried his face in his arms, Father was gently petting Ariana’s head and Mother had apparently not moved at all.

Albus couldn’t say whom he wanted to comfort the most. He wanted to make it better for all of them, make all of this go away, but he couldn’t –

“Oh, good Lord!” He had never heard his Mother’s voice take on such a loud, high pitch. Her eyes were suddenly opened in shock and she stood up so abruptly that the chair was pushed backwards. Albus followed her gaze towards Ariana’s shaking form. Father had stood up as well, pulled Aberforth to his feet and hurried to the other side of the room. 

Ariana started screaming and thrashing now, as if she was trying to fight off an invisible beast. Her body seemed to flicker, black spots appeared on her pale skin and seemed to deflorate from her figure. At this point her voice was so hysteric, he couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying. It sent a shiver down his spine, through his whole body and he wanted to launch forward, to help her, to make it stop.

“DO NOT come closer!” His father’s voice was loud and sharp and fearful and made Albus stop in his tracks immediately. He still held Aberforth, who had squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands over his ears, tight against his chest but his eyes were on Albus. “Step back, Albus!”

But he did not have time to step back. An invisible force seemed to spread around the room. A vase burst to pieces, books turned to ashes, the table and the chairs were thrown over, while mother stumble backwards, Father and Aberforth fell on their backs and Albus was pushed against the cabinet. Pain spread out where his head hit the wood and tears sprung to his eyes. He bit down on his lip to ease the pain and slowly sat up.

“I don’t want to! I will never do it again!” Ariana was yelling now, throwing her head from one side to the other. “I cannot show it! I don’t know why! NO!”

They all seemed to be paralyzed, sitting on the ground, staring at her now.

“No! No! No! I cannot! No!”

Aberforth was the first to move. He stood up on shaking legs and slowly, gradually approached Ariana. Apparently, Father was too shocked to intervene this time. Aberforth just stared at her for a long time. Then, as if he could get burned, he carefully stretched out his hand and started stroking Ariana’s hair.

“Ari”, he whispered, barely audible. At least that didn’t disturb her any more. “Ari… It’s alright. You are safe.” He muttered and finally, she stopped screaming and her head was merely jolting around.

“Aberforth… I…” she whispered. Tears were still streaming down her face. “Aberforth… I… don’t want to…”

“What is it?”

“Never…” Her voice was taking on a higher pitch again and Aberforth grabbed her hand.

“What don’t you want, Ari?”

“Magic!” she screamed.


End file.
